


Disappearing Behind Watercolors

by shattered_glass



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner can't catch a break, Clint Barton loves his farm and his famjam, F/M, M/M, Natasha Romanov can't catch a break, Past Abuse, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Romance, Spoilers, Steve is sad about Bucky in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shattered_glass/pseuds/shattered_glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Someday," Natasha would think. "Not today, but someday."</p><p>That day never seems to come for Natasha Romanov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disappearing Behind Watercolors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> It seems like I have an unpopular opinion, but I'll say it--I love Natasha and Bruce together. I think that it's a unique and original pairing that works really well and I love them. I also loved the Clint + farm + family dealio in AOU. So basically if you want a fic where Natasha is pining for Clint and we pretend that Age of Ultron didn't happen, this is not it.
> 
> Anyways, I've always felt bad for the character of Natasha Romanov, and I wrote this super quick and thought I'd post it. It's just a little character study with some background relationships and friendships; nothing too intense, too serious. Just a little tragic exploration of Natasha.
> 
> So that being said, hope you enjoy!

Before Bruce, there was nothing in the world that Natasha loved more than Clint. 

Clint and Laura and the kids; they were Natasha’s world. At the beginning, when Natasha first became part of their lives, she wondered if she used the family to hide behind. She wondered if she lived through them so she wouldn’t have to face the realities of her own life—the nightmares, the visions of the Red Room, the sudden and unwelcome flashes of the faces of men and women right before they were killed by the Black Widow—Clint and his family took Natasha in despite all that. She never even really felt like a charity case with them. She was just…part of the team. The team being a family. 

Natasha never wanted kids. Not at first. But the more time she spent with the kids, the more she found herself thinking, “Maybe one day. Not now, but one day.” She loved Clint’s kids, and knew she would probably love her own, too. And that would probably be good enough. Not all mothers loved all children. A lot of children were really, really annoying. But not Clint’s. And her own kids wouldn’t be. Natasha let herself picture it, sometimes; her with a little girl of her own. A little girl who could make her own choices and go to a regular public school and make friends and go to movies. Natasha could take her out to lunch and they could talk about whatever her daughter wanted. She could invite her friends over to play. Her friends would like Natasha. They would like her because they would never know about who Natasha really was.

And that was when Natasha realized; she would never have kids. Couldn’t. Physically couldn’t. And morally wouldn’t. She would never subject anyone to being raised by someone like herself.

So Clint and Laura opened their arms and Natasha happily fell into them. Their children painted Natasha pictures and Natasha trickled down into the watercolors sloppily thrown on the page in the shape of rainbows and butterflies and houses and cars. She helped Clint rip up the porch floor and put new boards in. She helped him knock out walls to the bedroom to widen the closets. They drank beer and sat on the hood of his car in the evening and made one another laugh.

And then Natasha met Bruce. 

And she didn’t think much of him at first. 

He was quiet and clumsy and fear constantly radiated from every fiber of his being. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he was intelligent and clever and, sometimes, really funny. He ran from fights he knew he would win. He used every capability he had to help others. He was an honest to God dork. Nerd. Loser. Natasha never imagined herself with someone like that. She rarely imagined herself with anyone, but when she did, it was always someone like Clint: sarcastic, hard, and just a touch arrogant. Bruce was none of that and then some. 

It wasn’t sudden at all. Natasha didn’t fall to her knees right then and there, overcome with love and yearning and whatever other crap is described in fairytales. But over time, Natasha found herself with the same feelings that Clint and his family gave her—warmth. Happiness. Hope. 

She felt warmth when she saw Bruce working with Tony in the lab. When she saw their friendship right before her. For some reason, Natasha adored how much those two loved one another. Tony, so proud and arrogant and full of it, seemed to melt in Bruce’s presence. Bruce brought out something soft and sweet inside Tony. And Tony made Bruce confident. He made Bruce feel safe, Natasha guessed by how he smiled when he was around Tony. The men were good for one another, and Natasha liked that. 

She felt happiness when Bruce made a lame joke or pun, and no one laughed except for out of pity, and Bruce always blushed. Natasha liked that. Bad jokes. Blushing. No one would guess that he turned into…what he did. 

And she felt hope when Bruce looked at her. She felt like a stupid, love-struck child. But when Bruce Banner looked at her, it was like he didn’t even see the assassin/murderer/psychopath/killer she thought herself to be. He looked at her like she was worth something. Like she was a person who was worth talking to, worth being with. 

(Natasha had read up on Bruce’s family. Abusive father who killed his wife—Bruce’s mother—before Bruce’s eyes. Natasha’s chest constricted with pain and sorrow and sympathy for Bruce. And then she thought about Bruce and Tony, and Bruce and herself, and was met with a rush of hopefulness. If he could bring himself back from such horror, especially as a child, why couldn’t she? If Bruce could be so strong, why not her?) 

Also, he laughed at her jokes. Natasha liked that.

One time, Natasha overheard Bruce talking to Steve about her. It was after a pretty routine mission of hers. Natasha had brought down a few drug lords earlier in the night. It was nothing too eventful. She took care of it with barely any injuries, but apparently it blew Bruce’s mind. She couldn’t help smiling when she told him about it; the way he clung to every word she said. Bruce was saying to Steve, later, about what an impressive woman she was, and Natasha was reminded of how much he sounded like Steve, when Steve talked about Bucky.

Steve never—never, ever, ever—talked about Bucky to anyone except Natasha, and occasionally Sam. (Natasha could hear him talking on the phone to Sam sometimes. She pictured him hanging upside down off his bed like a teenage girl.) But when Steve needed to talk, Natasha knew that it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. And Natasha quickly came to the realization that Steve was completely fucking in love with this guy, this Winter Soldier, this Bucky. Sometimes he told Natasha stories that made him laugh so hard, he couldn’t even finish his sentences. Sometimes he cried and couldn’t even get the words out. Natasha knew it wasn’t just about losing an old friend. It was about losing an old…something. 

And the way Steve talked about Bucky, and the way Steve looked when he talked about Bucky…every time, Natasha found herself thinking of Bruce. She never really knew why, but there he was, in her head. With his curly hair and soft smile.

Intelligent, strong, and kind, so incredibly kind. 

After Bruce left the team—after everything with Ultron, everything that had happened between him and Natasha—Natasha threw herself into training the newest additions to the team. Steve did, too. She figured they were both running from the same thing; they ran from the admittance of how they felt. Steve, still broken and longing for Bucky; and Natasha, confused and angry and, more than anything, just plain sad. 

Because, yeah, she really, really loved Bruce. 

But she still had Clint. She had Laura and the kids. She had their family movie nights and her projects with Clint and their evening beers. She had Steve, the ever so righteous American and unlikely friend. She had Tony and Thor and Sam Wilson and the new members, who she grew to like more every day. Sure, she had built something up between her and Banner, and he knew it and felt it, too, but whatever she built fell apart.

Natasha Romanov tends not to weep over that.

She is Russian, after all.


End file.
